


Horribly Wrong, Bad, Terrible Choices (But I Don’t Regret a Thing)

by platypusesrneat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Scenting, Sugar Daddy Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28749291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platypusesrneat/pseuds/platypusesrneat
Summary: Stiles is overworking himself, and Peter is concerned... but also opportunistic, not that Stiles minds.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 42
Kudos: 232





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles is a mess. His sleep schedule would line up with a neurotic bat, his diet consists of mainly Cheetos, and if he doesn’t have a caffeinated beverage every twelve hours he gets shaky. And his eye starts twitching so people thinks hes crazy. At this point he might as well be, he thinks.

Something has to change. He’s taking the most college classes he can a quarter and working full time to help support it since his dad can’t help him with college.

He’s sympathetic, because he knows John’s financial issues come from hospital bills. Stiles would never blame John for that. So much money went into trying to save his mom’s life... She received the best care money could buy, but at the expense of, well. A lot of money.

The process was agonizing for both him and his dad. Lots of late nights and alcohol were the new norm for John, and a lot of the time Stiles stayed at a friends house. Usually it was Scott.

At the same time, if you can’t ask your only parent for money, what can you do? Work, of course, and he’s trying, he really is! But to keep his scholarship afloat requires so much of him.

He’s running out of ideas and his mid term is due in two days and he doesn’t even have a thesis and—he’s overwhelmed. Panic attack time.

The pack is meeting tonight, and Stiles almost cancels. He has to study but at the same time he hasn’t seen Scott or anyone in nearly a month. He even misses Derek’s grumpy face. When his heart aches for a moment after pausing to think about studying, he’s made up his mind.

He’s going.

When he shows up to the loft, everyone else is already there and setting up. They’re watching bad werewolf movies and eating pizza. Free food sounds wonderful to Stiles, having only had a granola bar that morning, so he piles a few slices on his plate, accidentally making eye contact with Peter when he does.

Peter isn’t smirking, which is odd to Stiles. There isn’t really amusement on his face; rather, there’s a concern that makes Stiles’s stomach turn a bit. No one has looked at him like that in a while. Maybe not for years.

It makes him shiver, and he looks away quick, almost dropping his plate with how hard he turns his head. Stiles’s ears burn as he turns and walks away, sitting on the floor at the edge of the gathering.

He eats ravenously, and sighs when he realizes he forgot to get a drink. Before he even has a chance to get up, there’s a tap on his shoulder. He looks behind him and sees Peter sitting close (closer than Stiles knew) and is holding a glass of ice water expectedly.

“Drink.”

Stiles licks his cracked lips a bit before nodding and taking the glass. He flushes a bit before taking a sip, then a gulp before he chugs it empty.

“Good,” Peter murmurs, low and rumbling.

The pat on the shoulder he gets after warms him like praise, addictive and consuming—but the word? The word is everything. He takes an unsteady breath and tries to focus on the TV, the back of his neck burning.

The movie is unendingly predictable and bad, so naturally, he dozes off. For once, he’s full and content, no worries, just cheesy gore and the rest of the pack talking.

It’s a nice nap.

When he wakes it’s with a start. There’s denim on his face, and when he turns, he sees it’s Peter he fell asleep against. He’s looking oddly fond, but Stiles is sleepy enough to write it off. He runs at his face for a minute and yawns.

“Sorry, dude. It’s just, uh. A boring movie.”

Peter quirks an eyebrow.

“Don’t call me dude.”

He rolls his eyes, but before he can snark Peter continues.

“Sweetheart, you’re wearing yourself out. You need to sleep more, and eat more. I could count your ribs through that plaid.”

Stiles scoffs.

“That’s an exaggeration!”

“But only just. I’m worried, Stiles.”

Peter’s serious, he realizes. Or he’s pretending to be. Oh god, what if this is all some sort of evil plan to fatten him up and eat him? But then he looks again and there is an uncharacteristic amount of sympathy and well...maybe he really is worried.

“I’m fine. Just a little stressed,” Stiles mutters, looking at the floor.

Peter doesn’t press anymore, but he does watch Stiles the rest of the night.

After everyone starts leaving, Stiles drowsily gets up off the floor, stumbling a little. A hand drops onto his shoulder. He startles briefly, but it quickly morphs into annoyance.

“It’s like you’re watching my every move tonight. What do you want creeperwolf,” Stiles hisses. He hears a sigh, and for some reason his heart rate picks up. He pushes away the instinct to apologize.

“I want to talk with you. But not here. How about I pick you up tomorrow?”“I want to talk with you. But not here. How about I pick you up tomorrow?”

Stiles bites his lips and chews on it for a second, thinking.

“I’m working tomorrow until ten at night. Why?”

“Time isn’t an issue. I’ll cook you dinner. How about... a risotto with salad and fresh baked bread? I’ll even pick you up.”

Oh god.

“Well...okay, but I’m telling Scott so he knows who poisoned me.”

Peter rolls his eyes.

“Dear boy,” and Stiles blushes, trying to ignore the slant in Peter’s smile growing with the heat in his face, “if I wanted you dead, I would have done it already. Besides, poison is traceable, do I look like a fool?”

Before Stiles can snark anymore about his death, Peter pleads with him.

“You’re pack, Stiles. Please let me help you.”

He nods stiffly, then shivers when Peter brushes his hand against his neck. Scenting. Appeasing his wolf by claiming pack.

“Good boy,” he whispers. Stiles bites his lip to seal the moan that tries to break free.

He leaves quickly after that, avoiding eye contact and has to adjust himself right after he steps outside. He isn’t sure why he agreed to meet Peter. But fuck, does he want to.

When he gets home he showers, almost feeling like he’s doing something wrong when he feels the soapy water slide down his neck. Washing away the claim on him...

Damn, he needs to get laid.

He slides a hand down to his dick anyways though, mind focused so hard on Peter calling him a good boy that before long he’s coming with a choked “D-Daddy”.

He’s so screwed.

Stiles dries off and slips into bed. After a minute of scrolling through his phone, a notification pops up.

Peter: Did you make it home safely?

Stiles: yea. Just showered

Peter: What a shame that is. Although I understand the necessity for hygiene’s sake, I must say that the thought of smelling myself on you is delectable

He gasps. It’s very forward, but... If Peter really is flirting and not just being him, Stiles needs to know. He's so tired, but he knows he--for whatever reason--is very attracted to Peter Hale. So he'll play along with this game.

Stiles: i’m not interested in being some guys fuck toy

Peter: I would never. A boy like you deserves the finer things. Is it wrong to think one of those finer things could be me?

Stiles: how can I trust you though

Peter: Let me show you tomorrow how a boy should be treated

Stiles: wined ‘n dined? Or 69’d?

Peter: Let’s stick with the first for now and see where the evening takes us

They say goodnight, and Stiles stares up at his ceiling wondering if this is all some prank the universe is pulling on him. Being Peter’s boy sounds better than it should right now.

Why does he want this so much now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is going to take me a while to pump out chapters. But I’m really enjoying it so far!

It’s the next day now, and Stiles is all nerves. He didn’t get much sleep, too worried about messing up his dinner. The dinner he has tonight. With Peter fucking Hale.

Oh, shit, what has Stiles gotten himself into?

He checks his phone, seeing a text from dad asking about how school is going, and then one from Peter, that says “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Stiles sends off a “School is good, just a lot of homework. Love you” text and then falters when he opens up the text from Peter again. A single text has no right to make him feel so happy. It’s just a good morning text, people send those all the time.

But still. He’s getting emotions about it.

Stiles: Mornin creeperwolf

He gets ready for the day gradually, starting a pot of coffee and listening to a video game soundtrack while he takes a shower.

He turns the water off when he’s done and checks his phone while he towel dries his hair with one hand.

Peter: Did you sleep well, sweet boy?

Stiles: No, but that’s okay. Usually don’t anyways

Peter: Now that won’t do.

His phone is suddenly ringing. He curses and throws his towel down. Stiles hits the accept button and puts it on speaker, licking his lips nervously.

“H-Hello?”

“Stiles,” Peter purrs into the phone, making him nearly drop it. Fuck, but his voice is smooth and sultry.

And there’s a problem. Before, Peter never really effected him like this. Not because Stiles never noticed Peter’s smokin hot bod (you’d have to be blind) but because Stiles feels like yesterday some part of him clicked in place. Like there was some mysterious piece of the puzzle of Stiles that Peter has, and he can’t get enough of it. It makes his knees weak and his head kind of fuzzy, almost like...

  
“Dear boy, are you listening?”

Stiles’s cheeks flush. Peter had been talking. Oops.

“Sorry.”

There’s a hum in his ear, and it’s unreal how just that one sound causes his whole body to erupt in goosebumps. Plus, the pet names Peter keeps calling them? It makes him feel cherished. Seen. And a little frustrated that he can’t explain his emotions upon hearing them better, even to himself. It’s just so much. Peter is so much, in a good way now.

“You’re okay, darling boy. I was just asking when your shift started.”

He licks his lips and looks at the clock.

“Uh, two. I get off at ten, but I have to finish an essay today...so I should probably start on that soon.”

“Responsible. Well, how about I pick you up at about eleven. Would that be enough time for you, and do you have plans for tomorrow as well? I don’t want to be the reason you’re kept up late. Not if you have somewhere to be tomorrow.”

He’s nodding, then the flush returns from before when he remembers Peter can’t see.

“More than enough. I...”

He hesitates.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

He catches the whine that tries to slip out of his throat then.

“I don’t have any plans for tomorrow. Well, maybe some homework in advance, but no work or anything. And. I’m excited. For tonight, I mean.”

He’s not sure why he says that. It’s not like it’s a date, it’s just. Dinner. Does he sound to desperate? Does—

“So am I. I’ve had my eyes on you for quite some time now, truth be told.”

“Really,” Stiles breathes, preening a bit. The anxiety from seconds before is seeping away.

“Of course. I don’t offer the bite to just anybody.”

“What about Scott?”

“That was obviously poor judgement with an altered state of mind. He’s a child who has no qualifications or instincts to competently lead a pack. I could have got a squirrel who’d do better. You, though...”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You have the loyalty and can make the hard decisions without seeing in black and white. There is no such thing as pure and good, just lesser evil. You’d be a natural.”

“I...still don’t want it. To be a werewolf.”

“No matter. You’re beautiful as you are.”

They talk for a while longer, Stiles getting more comfortable the longer they do. The frustration from yesterday is already melting away just from Peter’s voice.

It’s a shame he has to write his paper. When they hang up, it’s with Peter saying, “Have a good day at work, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”

It sends a nice warmth through him, like a big hug. Which abruptly ends later when he parks in front of Café Luna and sees the huge line inside. A rush. Dammit.

It isn’t the worst work day, though, and he has dinner with Peter to look forward to. Stiles’s boss, thankfully, doesn’t mind him making an iced coffee for himself and then he’s energized and doesn’t even flinch when he spills the sticky French vanilla flavoring all over himself.

His shift ends, eventually—thankfully—and he’s on his way home to shower and change. Which, uh...oh god, what is he gonna wear? Stiles has no clue. He prays to whatever god that is listening that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot tonight.

“Why do I care what I wear? It’s just dinner. Not a date. The opposite of a date, whatever that is,” he mumbles to himself.

Stiles showers quickly, mostly just washing off the sweat of the day and humming the doctor who theme that’s been stuck in his head on and off for about a week.

Then he looks in his closet and chooses dark wash skinny jeans and a long black dress shirt that he rolls the sleeves up a little on, to show his arms off a little. He messes with his hair a little, slicking it back with some styling gel Lydia forced upon him. When Stiles steps back and looks at the final result, he doesn’t think he looks bad.

It’s weird how he cares what Peter thinks of him now.

Punctual as ever, when the clock strikes eleven, there’s a knock on the door that makes Stiles perk up. He forces himself to open the door before he overthinks it, and finds himself closer to Peter than he expected to be.

He goes to jump back, startled, but Peter’s arm reaches out and pulls him in for a hug. Stiles melts into it.

“How do you feel about motorcycles?”

His head shoots up, finally taking in Peter’s appearance. He’s wearing a white shirt, casual and soft looking, which is contrasted by the leather jacket draped over it.

“I’ve never rode on one before.”

There’s a gentle look on Peter’s face.

“Would you like to tonight?”

“I—okay. Sure.”

Peter seems pleased with him, and he feels lighter, somehow. Peter leads him to the motorcycle, and picks up a helmet from the seat. He gives it to Stiles expectantly.

He puts it on over his head and fumbles with the straps until Peter knocks his hands away and does it for him. Stiles blushes, avoiding his eyes until Peter is done.

“Get behind me,” Peter orders, slinging a leg over the bike and gesturing behind him. “And hold tight, sweetheart.”

The ride is nice, if a bit scary. His knuckles are white with holding Peter, but even the fear is exhilarating. And, it’s pretty. Everything looks so close. It’s different than riding a car.

When they arrive, Stiles hops off with shaky legs, but he’s grinning wide.

“It’s like a roller coaster! Only no seatbelt and a werewolf steering.”

Peter chuckles, and then he’s unfastening the helmet and setting it back on the bike.

“You’ll get used to it eventually, dear boy. Come, dinner is ready for us.”

Stiles can’t help the warmth of want that goes through him when he hears Peter order him to come, even if it was meant to be innocent. He follows obediently, and they go up an elevated to Peter’s apartment.

It’s...nice. Everything in it looks pricey, but Peter always did have expensive taste. The food is already on the table, with a bottle of red wine and everything.

“I just took it off the stove when I went to pick you up,” Peter starts, picking up the bottle and pouring himself a glass. “so it should still be warm.”

“It looks so good. I’m famished.”

Between schoolwork and his job, there wasn’t a lot of time to eat. He had breakfast, but that’s pretty much it. Stiles can’t complain too much, though.

Sure, he’s exhausted and kind of hungry most of the time and usually stressed, but at least he can be. At least he has the opportunity to go to college. So he won’t be ungrateful. Even when it sucks.

He sits down eagerly, and when he puts the first forkful in his mouth, he has to close his eyes and moan. Fuck, it’s good.

Stiles opens his eyes and sees Peter staring, eyes dark. He coughs to try to cover the sound, covering his mouth and averting his eyes.

“It’s really good.”

Peter looks amused.

“I’m glad you like it. Can I get you some water, Stiles?”

He thinks for a sec, then decides, screw it. All or nothing.

“Actually, I’d like some of that wine, please.”

At Peter’s incredulous gaze, he scoffs.

“What? I’m old enough. You don’t even get drunk and you’re drinking it.”

“I like the taste of it. Normally, I’d pour you a glass myself, but there are things we should talk about that we just can’t if you aren’t sober. That is why we’re here. Well, that reason and that I enjoy providing for pack.”

Stiles licks his lips.

“Before we talk about whatever you want to talk about...is this a date? I don’t want to assume, but. It’s been bothering me. All of this is throwing me off and I’m already stressed and it’s so up and down...”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to get messed with. I don’t need someone to try to distract me from school when I’m already doing my best.”

Peter’s nodding along, and it gives Stiles some confidence that he isn’t angry. He doesn’t know why Peter would be in the first place, but. Anxiety.

“If you don’t want this to be a date, it doesn’t have to be. I’d like it very much if this was a date, though. Smart boy, that’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Stiles’s eyes widen.

“It was?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I have a proposition for you. I adore your intellect and the way you feel in my arms, and I think we’re very compatible.”

“You do?”

Stiles is dumbstruck by all of this. Peter wants to date him? Since when? He tries to swallow down the insecurities bubbling up.

“Absolutely. Both personality wise, and... Stiles, did you know you’re a submissive,” Peter asks, tone unreadable.

He flinches, nerves back, anxiety spiraling.

“I-I’m not. What does that even have to with our compatibility?”

Peter hums, sipping his wine.

“I’m a very dominant man, Stiles. I like providing guidance for my partner and taking control. Some of it is my wolf. But I think other reasons might have to do with the fire, and losing pack. And even more reason is because I’d love to watch you choke on my cock while I tell you what a good boy you’re being for Daddy,” Peter rumbles, tilting his head and flashing his eyes an icy blue.

Stiles sputters, ears turning tomato red. But even worse, his cock is throbbing with need now. Peter couldn’t know what he did last night, could he?

He wants to die when he sees Peter inhale, surely smelling his desire.

“Of course, I’d love to provide for you in other ways too. I know you aren’t eating or sleeping well, and a lot of that stress is from your job.”

“I like my job,” Stiles says defensively. “It’s just hard because of school.”

“You’re running yourself too thin, boy. So if we were to be in a relationship, even if you said no to the daddy/boy dynamic—and I doubt you will, you’d be the perfect boy—I would have you quit your job and provide you a weekly allowance.”

All of this is making Stiles’s head spin. He likes what he hears a lot, though. This could all be an elaborate trick, he tries to tell himself. And yet he’s still tempted. He can just see what Peter’s describing, and he wants it. Badly.

“Say we did...do this. What would my weekly spending money be?”

Peter taps his fingers against the table for a moment.

“To start? Five hundred, give or take. I’d ask for all your bill information from the past few months so I know what your regular spending habits are and build upon that. I want you to be happy and taken care of, always.”

He blinks. That’s...very reasonable. More than, really.

“And for everything else...?”

Peter’s eyebrow quirks.

“What about everything else?”

Fair. He bites his lip, thinking for a sec.

“What if I want the rest of what you talked about? The dating...and calling you Daddy stuff?”

He wants to die from embarrassment, but feels oddly proud when Peter looks at him like he’s done something big.

“Then we’ll talk it over and that’s what we’ll do. You’ll be my boy and I’ll be your Daddy.”

It feels like a dream, but it’s definitely reality when he starts nodding and Peter calls him a good boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi or prompt me or whatever else on my tumblr @gwen-of-myth!


End file.
